HD 'Thursdays'
by tigersilver
Summary: AU. A ficlet set in the Potterverse with no specific time, place or exact setting. Make of this pron what you will!


Author: **tigersilver**  
>Rating: NC-17<br>Title: 'Thursdays', and one of the series of no particular time, place or universe ficlets.  
>Word Count: 2,400<br>Warnings: No Beta, sorry! Um, also...rampant wall!sex? Impatient!Harry. Unhappily Compliant!Draco. For **lotus_lizzy*** , for her birthday; for **mijeli*** (Glomp,darlin' heart! Surprise Butt!Sex!]. For procrastination's sake, as I should be writing BigBang right now and I am clearly not:)

**HD 'Thursdays' aka 'F**k Me!"**

"Fuck me!" Harry exclaimed.

"Do I have to?" Draco eyed him carefully.

"Fuck _you_!" Harry snarled. He flapped his hands, one of them clenching into a loose fist and gone flying wild. Draco ducked deftly.

"Here, Harry? Really?"

"Oh, shut it, pissant!" Harry gritted, and caught up Draco's trailing sleeve.

He urged him along, _tsk_ing and clicking his tongue against his teeth and never once leaving go of Draco's sleeve, not until they came upon a more suitable location: nice and tight and cozy-like, it was well out of the common path.

It was also dark, damp, dingy and dreary—absolutely not the usual Malfoy stomping grounds in any known universe.

"Now fuck me," Harry commanded, unfazed, fingers already yanking wildly at his robe clasps. "Git."

Draco heaved a huge sigh, an absolutely enormous one, shrugged his shoulder offhandedly and rolled his eyes.

"Weeeeelll," the git drawled slowly, "if I must."

"Arse." Harry had his robe torn off already and was working furious fingers at belt and flies. He gave Draco a swift kick in the shins. "Hurry it up—we don't have much time."

"Plebian." Draco went about removing and loosening his abruptly unnecessary clothing much more slowly and methodically. He went so far as to whistle between his teeth while doing so. Harry growled ferally, toeing off his shoes.

"Lube," he snapped, one hand soaring up in the draughty air. "Now!" His fingertips glistened. "And you, git," he added almost as an afterthought, wriggling his drawn-together brows in Draco's direction. "Have some."

"Why thanks, Potter," Draco regarded his palmful of goo with a marked lack of appreciation. There was a quick swiping motion by each parties. Harry whispered something like 'Auctus cavus!'; Draco beetled his fair brows in a pained manner. "Now, er, bend over, if you please. As you are so insistent."

"Where, exactly, am I supposed to do that, berk?" Harry barked, glancing pointedly about at the clear lack of waist-high surfaces. He spun on his stockinged feet, though, and braced his arms up against the available wall of their shared nook, thrusting his bum out. "How 'bout this, instead?"

"Hmmm," Draco hummed thoughtfully, cocking his head at the arse presented. "That'll do in a pinch, I guess."

"Make it work, ponce!" Harry was impatient. He wriggled about, spreading his feet farther apart and bending his knees just enough to provide leverage. Also resistance, which was the real name of the game in a situation like this. Speed was, after all, essential.

"Fine, be that way," Draco sighed. "I still think we'd be better off else—"

"Just do it, git," Harry hissed through his teeth, "don't talk about it-and do please cease your eternal whinging about how to do it properly. If we wait for proper, it'll never happen!"

"Oh, alright!" Draco finally lost his patience, snapping back. "Brace yourself, then. This isn't going to be pretty."

"Look here, Malfoy, I don't—oof! _arrrgh_!—fucking _care_ if it's pretty, damn your eyes!" Harry grunted. "Just get on with it already!"

"Right, then," Draco shoved up and out with a will, grasping Harry's hips and adjusting him. For a moment they wobbled in tandem: Harry up on his very tiptoes, fingertips scrabbling across the blank-faced wall, Draco hard on his heels and rocking back upon them for balance. "There!" he announced, at last satisfied. "I suppose that'll do to go on with."

He pulled back and jabbed, a bit deeper, at Harry's needy groan.

"Good?'

"Yeah…" Harry managed, pressing his scar against the cold stones. "Yes, that's it. Now, go!"

"What?" Draco was taken aback. "No make-ready or prep? No hang time, Harry? I'm offended."

He scowled, but shoved again as ordered, a rough motion that resulted in Harry's kneecaps meeting the wall's surface with twinned smacks. 

"Ah!" Harry seemed pleased with the result, though, judging by the jiggling pelvic shimmy and the hint of tremble in his gasp. Encouraged, Draco threw his entire weight into it, smashing Harry flat, like a bloody bug.

"That better?" he panted, sarcasm dripping wetly from every syllable, "you whore?"

"Don't—call—me-that!" Harry barely had breath to protest, as Draco had instantly taken up a jerky, off-kilter motion, pistoning his cock into Harry's hole unevenly, almost randomly. It was a punishing process; neither knew what to expect next.

"Oh, fuck this!" Draco snarled two beats later, obviously fed up with the inferior position. "Levicorpus, Potter. And don't fucking float off, either!"

"Oh, fuck, fuck, _fuck_!" Harry yelped, being presented with a whole new and quite compelling reason to cling to the wall. Weightless, he was rising up and up, his only connection to solid earth being Draco's dick, furrowing in and sloughing out with a squishy, sticky sound. "What the bleeding fuck did you go and do _that_ for, Malfoy?" he gritted, grimly hanging onto the tiny furls of mortar. "Dumb arse!"

"Never satisfied, are you?" Draco was irked. "We'll see about that!"

His muttered Sticking Charm was mutinous and nasty, blackening the air about them with barely pent-up ire. Harry found his hands—each from sweaty palm to the elbow joint—clamped down fast to the wall's surface. It was only his hips, bum and legs below them that retained motility, but Draco solved that mechanical issue in a snap, ramming them firmly into the wall as he bore down upon Harry—or rather, up.

"Urgh! Watch it, arsehole," Harry sniped, from the corner of his mouth. He'd laid his cheek on the chill stone for balance; now it, too, was stuck fast. He could feel himself drooling.

"Idiot Pureblood," he muttered, his voice muffled as he swallowed back excess saliva, "totally addicted to luxury. Come on! Make the best of it, ponce!"

"Hah!" Draco apparently took exception to that comment, his cock brutally drumming away at Harry's prostate now he'd immobilized his overly willing prey. "You asked for this, Potter, so shut your gob._ I_, if—you—recall," he groaned and grunted, his pelvis slamming against Harry's parted cheeks at a furious rate, "would've gladly taken this somewhere—more—appropriate!"

"_**Malf**_—"

"But _no_," Draco gripped Harry's flesh at the waist in a punishing manner; the other hand groped about till it found Harry's cock, which was sliding every which way over the hand-hewn stone and only barely cushioned by a last-minute protective spell of Harry's. "No. You, thick-witted git that you are, couldn't bear to wait—not _you_, Pottyhead!"

"Oh, shut up, do!" Harry pleaded, grateful for any close contact that didn't threaten to scrape his skin right off his bones. "Just shag me already, Draco!"

"I am!" Draco bucked up under him like a destrier rising nobly in battle, ready to trample some poor foot-soldier to a gory death. "I will, stupid!" He palmed Harry's dick all the more firmly, till his tight-fingered yanks matched the hard to-and-fro of his cock, balls deep in Harry's arse. "Bloody impatient cod, aren't you?"

That highly-charged sexual organ was, however, certainly _not _wasting any energy whinging over the proper time, place or occasion. No, wee Draco was a rollicking merry lad, a real arse pirate, and currently doing exactly what he did best.

"Hmphff!" Harry tried a form a coherent retort in retaliation, but he was far too intimate with wall surface to do so successfully. "Nrghh!" he grumble-growled instead, when Draco suddenly showed threatening signs of slowing his rackety pace to a mere slug's creep.

"Pardon?" Draco panted in his ear, in passing. "Sorry, missed that!"

"Whas'is?" Harry demanded hotly of his lover, having wrenched his jaw from the wall with a horribly lingering sucking noise. "_W__haaat_!"

"You know, Potter..." The snooty voice behind him was meditative. The dick churning within him had lagged noticeably and Harry was not best pleased with this development. He snorted disagreeably and tried to stomp his toes hard upon his opponent's, which wasn't a viable option with a Levicorpus in effect. "I'm thinking...You do realize it's not too late to take this to a nicer place?" Draco offered. "One with, say, a tad more forgiving atmosphere? Perhaps even a mattress."

"_I_," Harry stated unequivocably, glaring a whole armoury of daggers over his shoulder. "Will. Hate. You! _Forever_!"

"Really, now?" Draco dared to be amused, that bastard. Harry, infuriated, humped his arse back against Draco's bared thighs in a fierce rear-guard motion, simultaneously clamping down upon the dickweed's manly tool with every straining groin-centred muscle formation he could Summon. "_Ack_!" Draco yelped liked a kicked Crup. "Merlin, Potter! That's my willy you're strangling, arsehole!"

"See?" Harry taunted, green eyes very dangerous indeed. "If you don't move it, Malfoy, you will lose it! Now hop to, and make me scream!"

"Bloody buggering fuck," Draco growled, but he upped his flagging pace nonetheless. Nicely so, as Harry and wall became abruptly reacquainted. "Silly little sod," he went on in a low, menacing rumble, "don't have to fucking go at this _here_—perfectly adequate bed available—_could _take our time and enjoy it!"

"Malfoy."

"Oh, alright already—hold your fecking Thestrals!" Malfoy huffed; Harry's earlobe was nipped nastily. "It's just I'd rather not waste this load, Harry. I'd plans, you know—"

"We can do it again, git," Harry slid the words in sideways, quick as winking. He flexed those well-developed muscles of his, too, but kindly and as an offering of peace, and his sphincter narrowed to approaching Black Hole status. "No! Better yet—we _will _do it again, alright? Later!" he added when his lover jolted under the pleasurable pressure. "Now, please, for the love of all that's holy, _**fuck me**_!"

The whiny reluctant git behind him sucked in a fast, loud breath, lungs whistling. He rocked on his heels and began to play a form of peek-a-boo, between his thrusting cock and Harry's quivering prostate. And he smiled acceptance—or so Harry assumed. He actually couldn't see all that well, what with his eyes mostly closed, protecting the one from the rough stony surface beneath his squashed cheekbone. His spectacles were no help at all, all but dangling off the arch of one ear and soon to be history.

"Really?"

Harry noted there was suddenly enthusiasm to the plunge and sweep of turgid prick to slick-tight channel. Draco's entire demeanour instantly altered from irascible to bloody jaunty; Harry could feel it. His prostate could appreciate it, too, as the marked increase of satisfactorily serious, non-grudging pokage was most assuredly ushering him off to Nirvana very, very shortly...if not momentarily.

"Yessss!" He nodded affirmation as best he could in his stuck-tight situation. "Later!"

"Fantastic!" Draco panted happily into his tousled hair. "Super—Saint—Potter!"

"Er-er-aaahhh!" Harry agreed, his reason abruptly bowing out, under influence of shagging. "Har—har—harder!"

"Oh, righty-ho," Draco obliged him smartly. "Can do!"

The hand on Harry's cock finally got a half a clue; he was stroked by the fingertips of a Slytherin past-master in the art-and-science of wanking. It was pure, unadulterated heaven.

"Nnnnnn," Harry moaned, more than happy to be alive. Hell and Hades both, every particle of his person was happy beyond words, from tingling scalp to tightly curled toes. "Erm—urgle—**AHHH**!"

He showed his inner joy by enthusiastically flexing every bit of his bum; every square inch of thigh and hip he could still exercise any real control over, all to help along the procecure to an equally ecstatic culmination.

"Mmm, yeah, that's it—fuck, Harry!" Draco was quite appreciative of Harry's effort, for a high-stepping, not easily pleased sort of bloke. "Fuck me, alright? Fuck my cock, Harry! Show me you want it!"

"Unnnn!" Harry did do that, yes, and was amply rewarded. The wanking hand magically grew ten extra digits; all of them all over every heady inch of his throbbing flesh and his heavy bollocks; the dick within him swelled to monstrous proportion, pulsing in time to Draco's rhythmic stokes. "Oh—fuck—ing—gods!" he gurgled, poised at the utter cusp and tumbling. "Com—ming—ggghhh!"

"Fuck me, fuck me, _fuck me_, you little wanker!" Draco chanted, and then let loose with a final eerie howl. "Harry!"

They sagged against the wall in unison as orgasm tore through them, Draco's weight nearly smothering Harry's slighter form, their cocks momentarily off in hog heaven—or perhaps Valhalla. It wasn't clear which plane of utter sublimity they'd each achieved, but it was certain it was together.

"Erm, good idea, yeah?" Harry ventured, after some little while had passed. "Draco?"

"Mmmm," Draco nodded faintly. He drew back finally, sighing, his softening dick sliding free with a sticky little plop, and gave Harry's sore bum a fond pat. "Mmm, yes. Yes, it was, blast you."

"Thought so," Harry was superbly smug. He essayed a weak grin, all he could manage. "Told you so, even."

"But," Draco tacked on severely, already busily cleaning them up: easing Harry down the wall, spinning his limp form about for a rapid inspection and then clearing up the small traces of purpling bruises with a twitch of fingertips. "I am most definitely holding you to it, runt. No skiving allowed."

"Mmm?" Harry blinked up at him sleepily. "Erm, what was that, again? What did you say?"

Draco pressed his still flushed and perspiring forehead to Harry's abruptly, bending his long neck and looming over him ominously. "You said 'later', Harry, when I told you I'd plans for us this evening. Well, 'later' _will_ be happening, git, no matter what. Got it?"

"Oh, ohh-kaaay…"

Harry quirked his lips, eyes hazy and clouded yet with the slow-departing remnants of satisfied lust. Well, more like passion, but still. No problem he could see, not concerning a rendezvous with 'later'. He'd no objections to the concept of 'later' at all, actually;not one—he'd just been suffering from a bug up his arse from wanting 'Now!'

A sated bug that was more than fully quiescent at the moment, and quite, quite blissed out. If bums could purr, his was doing so, Harry decided.

"Harry?" Draco twitched his eyebrows curiously, pausing in his work. "Did you hear me, Harry?"

"Oh, er..got it."

He sloppily nodded his still-spinning head, the motion helped along by the residual wobble yet resonating through all his appendages, indubitably due to the very thorough fucking he'd just enjoyed.

Draco appeared dubious, as if he'd not quite bought into Harry's sincerity over the prospect of 'later'. Harry hastened to reassure him…as best as he could, that was, in his soggy condition.

"Ah...hmmm, yesss, Draco," he sighed peacefully, boneless and yielding as his sex partner went on with jostling and shoving him gently about; neatening, healing stray sore bits and touching up the knots in both his straggling school tie and his shoelaces. "Sure. Whenever you say, old git. Erm—ah, ummm…" he trailed off into a quiet, placid moan, mindlessly enjoying the petting of rapid hands over his person, distracting him. "Oh, I do like thaaat…keep going?"

"Brill," Draco nodded firmly, tugging at Harry's shoulder blades to right him. "Here, stand up straight, do. You're sagging horribly, Harry. And you feel like a wet noodle."

Harry blinked blearily at Draco's neatly buttoned-up shirt , dancing before his nose, sobering at last as his previously MIA good sense and reason slowly crept back again. Yes, he was more than amendable with that 'later' plan of Malfoy's. 'Later' sounded like an excellent concept, actually. He shrugged, loosely, but valiantly attempting not to jiggle and fall over as Draco did up his flies and buckled his belt.

"Whatever you want, 'kay?" Harry was in real earnest, eager to make amends now he'd gotten what he wanted. "You just let me know the where and when of it and I'll be there, alright? Pronto, I promise."

"Now, that's precisely what I like to hear from you, Harry." Draco smirked, complacent once more and all neat and tidy, too. He finished fastening up the very last clasp at Harry's throat, even as he chuckled his approval. "You saying 'Yes, Draco,' just like that, easy as you please, in that stoned-arse silly manner of yours. I do believe we'll have to practice that response more often, Potty. I rather relish the sound of it from your lips, I think—that particular phrase. Makes up for you dragging me off to places like this."

He spared a squinty-eyed glance to their surroundings, which had never been exactly ideal, true enough, and sniffed loudly, his aristocratic nostrils flaring.

"Ick," he stated, clearly. "This. Not nice at all, prat. You should be sorry."

"Huh?" Harry gazed up at his smiling companion, confused again. "Er, don't I say it enough already for you? The 'yes' bit, I mean. What else d'you want from me, git? Blood?"

"Oh, no, Harry," Draco replied airily. He leant in close again, trapping Harry's spine against the handy wall this time, and shoved his smug face right up close, so that Harry almost didn't catch the attendant leer. "I just have rather a lot of questions I'd prefer to hear you utter a nice solid 'yes' to, that's all. And I rather like knowing well in advance you can be manipulated this easily, Potty. So much less effort expended, really, on my part—don't you think?"

Finite


End file.
